Timeless Silver Soul
by Miriala
Summary: Two lonely souls have met and while one desires to wreck havoc, the other tries to dissuade him from doing so. But as impossible a pairing they might seem, they are none other than the reflection of each other. How Ichigo met with Shiro as a child and what happened before the events of "White Gold" and "It's Time". Dark-ish fic. Mentioned yaoi (HichiIchi). Rated M to be sure.


**Well, this is the last one of this arc, my good people. Contrary to the other two that have come before, this story did not stem from a school assignment. As such, that is one of the major reasons why this one is the longest one yet. It is the origins of how Shiro met Ichigo and how they were in Ichigo's childhood. It also tells of the events that lead to the other two stories "White Gold" and "It's Time". However, one does not have to have read those to enjoy this one.**

 **On that note,**

 **Allons-y, chers lecteurs!**

"I-I don't think we should be doing this..."

"Nonsense. Don't you want to know what it does when we use this?"

"But we'll hurt it!"

"That's the whole point, idiot."

The young orange-haired boy hesitated with much uneasiness at the sight of the pale haired boy holding a long sword to the throat of a black cat. He watched with a frown on his face the savage look in the other's black and gold eyes. Sure, it was Ichigo that had asked the boy what his sword did, but he never meant for the poor cat to be caught up in this. And his companion was taking way too much pleasure in holding the sword to the feline.

"Can't you show me another way what it can do?" He asked for the umpteenth time.

The snow-skinned boy turned to him and grinned in a way that matched his gaze. "Would you rather I try it on you? Then you'd really know firsthand what it does..." He took a step forward and wagged the white blade in the orangette's direction.

Ichigo took a step back, a sudden jolt of fear passing through him. In his eight little years of existence, this was the first time that Shiro seemed so far gone. Well, he had never been one to be _sane_ , per say, but this was something more, and Ichigo didn't really like it. But at the same time, he felt a sort of little bubbling of excitement deep in his stomach at what they were doing, despite knowing that it was wrong.

"I'll pass, thank you." He said hurriedly.

"Thought so."

The white child stopped and lowered the blade. He stared at the orangette for a moment, the savage stare pausing a second, just the time that he plunged his gaze into the boy's chocolate orbs. When he looked away after a long minute, a grin was back on his white lips, different from the previous one, accompanied by a little hum of satisfaction.

Ichigo scowled. He hated how Shiro just seemed to know what he was feeling and how it always seemed to amuse him like nothing else. Ever since he'd met him, when he was three years old and barely talking, he'd always had a way with words and knew how to appease little Ichigo when he was hurt or lonely. He'd always been there when he'd needed him, and even when he hadn't and had simply been bored, he'd come along and relieve the boredom.

And that was the case today, except he'd shown up with a white sword that was as big as him and had told the little boy that his sword had powers. This had spiked his interest and he'd asked to see what it could do. Shiro had then taken him to the woods where they'd found the cat that was presently bound to a tree with some of the bandages that wrapped the hilt of the sword.

"Are you going to show me this year?" He asked, impatience starting to surface.

"Wait a second, King. Let me get ready." He snapped.

The orangette rolled his eyes as the white-haired boy went to the other side of the clearing in which they stood, and faced the poor feline with his sword raised before him. From where Ichigo stood to the side halfway between the two, he saw his friend calm down and take a breath, concentration writing itself on his features. Suddenly, he raised the blade above his head and brought it down with a shout.

An arc of red-ish black energy surged forwards, crackling and ripping up the ground in a trail all the way to the cat tied to the tree, effectively mowing down both animal and plant, as well as a few trees beyond. Ichigo stood bewildered as splinters rained down with dirt and rocks, trying to see through the dust what was left of the cat.

He rushed to where the tree had stood and saw nothing of the poor feline, save a little tuft of fur that was burning from the energy. His eyes widened in horror as the realization set in: he'd killed an innocent being. But instead of feeling bad for taking its life, he felt a little thrill in his gut, and it was _that_ that horrified him.

An arm slinked around his shoulders and pulled him close while the other planted the tip of the blade in the ground. The pair stood there, one admiring his work with a smile; the other nearly shaking in his arms at the intense contradiction of emotions inside him.

"What's the matter, King?"

The boy jumped in surprise at the sound of concern in his friend's voice. He turned his head and saw a matching expression etched onto his features, causing Ichigo's frown to deepen.

"N-nothing..." He mumbled out.

"Bullshit," he snapped gently. "You can't lie to me, King. I always know."

The orangette scowled for a second and returned to his pained expression. "It's just..." He huffed and looked to the scorched ground beneath his feet. "I don't know... It was wrong, what we did, but..."

"It felt right?" Shiro suggested.

He cringed at his words, but slowly nodded after a long while. "But why?" He inquired, genuinely confused about his feelings.

The white child fully turned and placed his hands comfortingly on the other boy's shoulders and bent down to look at his face properly. For once, all signs of arrogance and savagery were gone from his features, replaced by fondness and compassion.

"I'm going to tell you something, King, and you must understand it." The orange haired boy nodded slightly. "What you're struggling to keep down, that little giddy feeling in your gut, is what I feel all the time. And it's only natural that you feel it too, because we're linked, you and me. We were both lonely one day, and I came through from my world to yours so we could be together. Not many have the same chance."

Ichigo looked up, his warm eyes misted in the corners from impending tears. "But how come you were able to come over?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Because what we have is special, King."

"Special..." the orangette repeated, trying to understand what his friend had just said. His time was cut short, however, for his mother's voice was calling him urgently.

"Ichigo! Ichigo! There you are! Are you alright, sweetie?" Misaki came to a halt once her son was enveloped in her arms.

"Yes, I'm fine, mother." The boy replied as he pulled away from her arms and looked around for Shiro. The boy had vanished from sight the instant his mother's voice had been heard.

"What happened here, Ichigo?" she asked, this time with some severity tinging her tone.

"It- I… I don't know…" the boy trailed off innocently, looking down at his shoes to avoid his mother's piercing gaze.

Misaki crouched down before him and gently lifted his chin to look into his eyes with a certain look that the boy couldn't quite identify. She placed a soft hand his cheek after having brushed away the strands of bright hair that hid his warm amber orbs. She gave him a small smile of reassurance, urging him to tell her the truth.

The orangette felt his eyes water as he thought of the right words to tell his mother. But could he tell her? Would she believe him if he did, this time? All the times before, when he'd told her or his father that it was Shiro that had done to bad thing, they had never believed him and called Shiro nothing but an imaginary friend.

Ichigo swallowed the lump he felt in his throat. "It… It was… Shiro…" he admitted hesitantly.

The woman's expression went blank for a moment or two, before turning to one of mixed anger and a slight fear. Her hand dropped from his cheek and grabbed his arm, pulling him among the debris of the forest back to the house. The bot protested with all his might, crying for his mother to believe him, but his words fell on deaf ears. She said not a single word the whole time they moved. He continued to struggle against her iron grip around his arm until they arrived to the kitchen, where she released him at last.

His father, Isshin, was sitting at the table, his usually smiling face falling serious at the sight of mother and son entering the room in such a dramatic fashion. "What's going on?" he asked in a deep voice.

Misaki looked expectantly at Ichigo, waiting for him to explain his impossible self to his father. And so, he did, pleading for them to believe that it truly _was_ Shiro that had destroyed the trees like that.

"I have no idea how he could have done all of that on his own, Isshin." Misaki said at last. "Whole massive trees reduced to mere toothpicks… This isn't like scratches on the wall or strange noises in the middle of the night."

"Indeed it isn't. Perhaps we should pay _him_ a visit…" he suggested gravely.

Misaki's shoulders slumped and she breathed out a heavy sigh. "I feared it would come to this, someday. I just hoped that it wouldn't…"

Ichigo's gaze flitted from his mother to his father throughout the entire exchange, utter confusion written on his young features. His mind didn't understand what they were talking about at all. What was wrong with him? Who did they have to go see? Why was his mother so afraid?

"Ichigo," his father addressed him seriously. He didn't like seeing his father so serious; it was very unnerving. "Go and get your friend. Tell him to come with us."

"Huh?" the orangette muttered. "You- you believe me now?"

"Yes, Ichigo." His mother said. "Tell _Shiro_ we're going for a car ride."

"Where are we going, King?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know." He whispered. "They won't tell me anything."

"Well, ain't that boring."

The orange-haired child nodded lightly. His mother kept casting backward glances at them, even though she couldn't actually see Shiro, while his father drove on in the rainy dusk. They had passed the part of town that Ichigo was familiar with and were now engaged on an old road that hardly anyone used anymore.

"I think mom once said this lead to an old church." He whispered to the white-haired child beside him, idly playing with the sash of his pale shihakushou.

The boy lifted and amused eyebrow at his words with his usual smirk on his pale lips. "What? Are they going to exorcise you?"

The boy's eyes widened in sudden fear. He'd seen movies, scary ones, where people had been exorcised because they had an evil spirit inside them and were doing really bad things. Surely what he and Shiro were doing wasn't bad… was it?

"Don't worry, King." Shiro pipped up when he saw the horrified expression the other boy bore. "They're not going to exorcise you. They can't; you're not even possessed."

Ichigo breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe he was going to be okay after all. Maybe they really were just going for a car ride somewhere.

"I told you, King: what we have is special. No damn priest can separate us just like that. No god is powerful enough to separate us. I'll always be here for you, King. Always with you." Shiro told him softly, reassuringly, and the orangette smiled a little.

For the whole trip, neither Isshin nor Misaki had spoken a single word, be it to Ichigo or the each other. The kept on glancing in his direction with worried traits every few minutes, his mother more than his father, since he was driving. Even they veered off the unkempt road and onto a dirt one, the remained silent. Soon the sun had set, and the only light came from the headlights of the vehicle. Ichigo was beginning to be worried now, and he could sense that Shiro was a tad bit restless as well, nervously glancing about and tugging more roughly on the sash of his clothing.

After long minutes of heavy silence, broken only by the dull thrum of the car on the road and the occasional thwack of a low-hanging branch on the roof, they finally turned in a driveway. It cleared out of the trees into a gravel and grass strewn clearing, allowing a humble church to take its place in the center, with only one other car in the driveway aside form themselves.

The church didn't appear so much so as it did a chapel, hardly big enough for a proper funeral or a Sunday mass. It looked a little on the abandoned side, the orangette noted, with its only spire bent and weighed down by the heavy bell it tried its best to support. The wooden paneling that made the walls were old and blackened with time, sometimes broken, sometimes missing altogether. The gutters were filled with leaves and debris from the forest and the roof seemed to be sagging in some places. The only thing that looked still in relatively good shape was the door: the paint wasn't peeling off and the handle was shined from frequent use. It didn't even creak as Isshin opened it and they followed him through.

If the outside appeared rundown, the inside seemed like another world completely. All was clean and ordered, with rich tapestries and art adorning the walls and ceiling of the chapel, soft red curtains hung from ornate poles above the arched windows and a long carpet of the same color ran down the center of the walkway, between the rows of pews on either side. Wrought iron chandeliers hung from the chandeliers, casting everything in a warm light and reflecting of the shined surfaces of the many ornaments and sacred objects that decorated the room. At the front of the first pews, three steps were laced before an altar of solid white stone, polished with a crimson cloth draped over its center along its length. Surround it were many statues of deities and holy symbols, seemingly watching over the place of worship and its visitors.

Ichigo took time to gawk at the splendor of the place, like any normal child would, his worries temporarily vanishing. Although, there was something that bothered him about the place, almost like it seemed bigger on the inside… But that was impossible of course. And the chapel's effect wasn't completely lost on Shiro either, as he seemed to share a similar expression for a moment, until it twisted into one of disgust at the sound of a door opening behind them, echoing loudly in the empty room.

The family turned around toward the source of the sound. There was a door that had opened in a recess on the right side of the far wall, at still it stood, though no one was to be seen. The white child looked around, anger boiling in his glowing golden eyes. Ichigo had seen him like this only once before, when the orangette's mother had grounded him after she'd found him in the forest clearing with many little woodland creatures strewn about the place in various states of dissection. He'd tried to defend himself and say that it was Shiro that had done it, but she hadn't believed him and had grounded him a month for actions that he hadn't done. Shiro had not been happy about that, and it had taken much convincing from the boy to stop him from doing something very, very bad.

Their eyes finally found the thing responsible for the sound sitting nonchalantly on the altar, the hat on his head obscuring his face as he swung his cane about in a lazy manner. The man was dressed in the black clothing priests usually wore, with the exception of his missing white collar. He had a lazy, knowing smile drawn across his lips as he addressed them in a low, mysterious voice.

"I see you have a little problem. I assume you want my help in solving it?"

Isshin stepped forward and replied. "Help our son. What we feared has happened."

The man gave a low chuckle and hopped down from the altar with easy grace, his smile never leaving his lips. "I had warned what would come of such a union, Isshin." He turned to the woman. "And you, Misaki, had been warned as well. The fault of this situation is not mine to take, but yours. You should assume the consequences, unpleasant as they may be."

"Please, Kisuke. If not for us, do it for Ichigo. He is blameless in this." Misaki pleaded.

The man leaned on his cane and appeared to be in thought for a moment. Beside the orangette, the white child was seething. His massive sword had appeared and the was gripping it tightly with both hands, his golden eyes two suns on a sea of darkness that could bore holes through any living creature, were fixed on the man Kisuke. Behind his parents, Ichigo placed a gentle hand on Shiro's arm to calm him, a hand that just barely noticed by the other.

"I suppose I could, but I would need help." The man said at last.

"Anything you need." Isshin said.

"The girl that Ichigo is sometimes with… Inoue Orihime… bring her here."

"Why do you want her?" his mother asked with a slight frown upon her brow.

"So that I can effectively seal the demon away."

At his words, Shiro let out a cry and charged forward, sword raised and dark energy crackling around his figure. With inhuman speed, the boy was before Kisuke, bringing his blade down upon him. In the fraction of a second that preceded the blow, the man spoke one word.

"Baku!"

The white child was frozen in his tracks, the long sword a mere hair's breath away from the man's neck. His face was contorted in fury, orbs still burning fire in pools of darkness. Misaki and Isshin took a step back in shock, while Ichigo ran forward in anger. How dare he restrain his friend so! What right did he have to take Shiro away from him? What right did his parents have to have him taken away? None! None whatsoever! The closer the boy came to Kisuke and his parents, the more his anger grew, the more he felt unable to contain it. The couldn't do this. The weren't allowed. Shiro was his only friend.

"Let him go!" he cried in fury.

He charged straight onto Kisuke, his arms raised and hands holding a pitch-black sword that had materialized, his own body crackling with dark waves of energy. His parents were knocked back by the sheer force of his presence as he passed them and appeared before the man, ready to bring down his sword upon his neck.

"Sui!"

Ichigo tumbled to the ground the moment the word was spoken, his sword clattering loudly on the wood floor and the dark waves of energy dissipating. His eyes closed, he was sent to an oblivious state on unconsciousness where nothing existed… for now.

 _He floated in darkness, feeling nothing but the soft touch of blackness encompassing him. He floated where no time existed, where space was but a concept which did not apply to him. He was in Oblivion, the Void between worlds, where all notions of when or where were lost in the infinite dark. It was pure bliss, but also terrible fear, and all other emotions jumbled together in the boy's heart and mind, so much that he felt nothing inside as well as outside._

 _And yet, amidst this blessed peace, something still bothered him. It was like a slight touch on his forehead, a featherlight touch that disturbed his serenity. The boy frowned. He tried to push it away with his arm, but his limbs felt strangely heavy and slow when he moved them, yet quite light when he stood still. He managed to bring his hand to the cursed distraction and flicked it away, feeling its soft texture between the pads of his fingers as he did so. He let out a breath of relief when it was gone, only to growl when it came back shortly after._

 _He opened his eyes and saw bright orange n his vision. This was not the blissful oblivion that he had expected. He brought up his hand and once more brushed the annoyance away and let out another sigh. His eyes widened._

 _Bubbles. There were bubbles coming from his breath._

 _It took some time for the young boy to realize something that was very important. He smiled, amused, and let out some more bubbles and watched them float up towards the faint light in the distance, that seemed to be getting ever fainter as the seconds began to trickle by._

 _Wait. A light, faint. Bubbles, rising. Limbs, heavy. Water, warm._

 _Oh._

 _Oh!_

Oh!

 _Drowning!_

 _He was drowning!_

 _The boy thrashed frantically against the crushing weight of the water. He fought with the little strength he had left to reach the light that seemed to be glowing ever less, no matter how much effort he expended towards it. He gazed up at it, finally ceasing his flailing limbs and simply floating as the abyss swallowed him in it's dark depths. He closed his eyes and allowed his weight to drag him down._

So this is how I die… I'm still so young and yet…

 _He let out one last breath, accepting his end. A small part of him wanted to keep fighting to the surface, but he quelled it and simply floated down. That was, until a small voice whispered in his mind._

Breathe, King.

 _The boy's eyes flew open and he gasped like the dying person he was. Sweet oxygen filled his lungs, and he suddenly found himself on the side of a building, a blue sky peppered with white clouds passing by. He sat up, panting, and looked at the sky, perplexed; the clouds were moving vertically. He then noticed that he was sitting on one of the many windows on the building._

 _He instinctively lay flat against the glass and gripped the ledges for dear life, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut, a sudden fear of heights gripping him. He held the ledge so tightly he heard his knuckles crack. But a sound that was not his own was heard through his panicked thoughts. Footsteps were approaching, a soon a shadow was looming over him._

 _Cautiously, he cracked one chocolate orb open to pear at the cause of the sudden shade. Both were thrown open when he took in the sight of the man before him._

 _He was tall, dressed in a pure white kimono with pale silver designs etched into the fabric delicately and tied around his waist with a long black sash. His haori was also the color of snow and dragged out behind him in the wind along with his hip-length hair of the same complete absence of color. His eyes of glowing, molten gold set in black abysses bore into him like two suns in a night sky. His fine features, that were surely set in a feral expression usually, held tenderness and sadness in them as he kneeled next to the boy and gently cupped his tanned cheek with a pale hand._

" _Fear not, King. You're safe here."_

" _Shiro...?"_

" _That is the name you gave me." He said with a smile._

" _But… I thought you were…" The orangette trailed of in confusion._

" _This is my true form, King."_

 _Shiro stood up and a mighty greatsword appeared in his hand, one that was taller than he was and had two blades that he separated and held in each of his hands. The boy gazed in awe and wonder as the man demonstratively slashed the air before him with each blade before he placed them back in one piece and leaned on it like a staff. He held out a hand to help the orangette up and crouched down to his height again._

" _What's happening, Shiro?" he asked._

" _They're sealing me away, King."_

"' _Sealing you away'?"_

 _He nodded. "Hm. This is the last time I'll get to see you in a while."_

 _Tears pricked the corner of his chocolate eyes. "But they can't do that!" he cried out. "They can't! They're not allowed! Not allowed…" His fists curled into tight balls at his side as he glared defiantly at the glass pane beneath him._

" _The only thing I can do is weaken the seal so that I can come back, later on. We've done all we can, King." He said solemnly._

" _No! I- they-" He protested, but was silenced quickly._

 _His vision was filled with white and arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. It took him a few seconds to reciprocate the gesture, but he did so with all his heart. He held on to his friend as tightly as he could while tears flowed down his cheeks through his closed eyes and soaked into the kimono. He committed this feeling of completion to memory, vowing to never forget it, come what may. He fisted the white haori in his hands, one last time before easing his grip and leaning back._

 _The two gazed deeply into each other's eyes, in which they saw themselves, for they were but one entity, in the end. The boy was now the same height as the man, a perfect reflection of the white entity before him. They mirrored their actions and gently placed their hands on each other's cheek. Small, sad smiles flitted on their lips for a moment, before they met in a chaste, but intense kiss._

" _I'll miss you, Shiro."_

" _As will I, Ichigo."_

The orangette woke to the sun's light shining in his room. He felt like he'd slept for ages, almost like he'd spent a part of his life in another world. He sat up in his bed and his mother was immediately by his side, showering him with care and questions on his well-being. Ichigo tried to escape his mother's clutches, ignorant of the reason why she was so worried about him. After all the racket Misaki made over her son, soon the room was filled with his father, two sisters and Orihime.

The boy looked at the latter curiously, but she only smiled in response, pushing her hair behind her ear while her hairpins glinted in the sunlight. He tried to think of a reason for Inoue to be there with them, but could come up with none whatsoever. Honestly, he was quite a bit happy to have all his family and his friend here with him. Rare were the times when it happened.

However, despite having the room filled with people he knew and loved, he couldn't help but feel like something – _someone_ , perhaps – was missing, yet he couldn't think of who it could possibly be.

 **In any case, I hope you have enjoyed this short trilogy, and as such, your feedback as a reader and critical eye is very much appreciated. You know the song that makes us writers dance ;)**

 **-Miri.**


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